


Last Christmas

by Lost_Elf



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Being Bros, Best Friends, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Declarations Of Love, Domestic Fluff, Drunkenness, Family Fluff, Feels, Idiots in Love, Jack being Jack, Love Confessions, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, One short smut scene at the end, Random & Short, Rhys got the promotion, Some Plot, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:15:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21812047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_Elf/pseuds/Lost_Elf
Summary: Why does Rhys hate Christmas now, and why can't he look his boss in the eyes?Also, Vaughn being a bro.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands), Rhys & Vaughn (Borderlands)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 62





	1. Last Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PunnyGamerGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunnyGamerGirl/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will shamelessly use this to promote my new Twitter account. Do you want irregular updates on my writing? Random thoughts of the author of all the fluff and angst? Then I've got something just for you!
> 
> (@ElfWriting): https://twitter.com/ElfWriting?s=09.

> _"Last Christmas I gave you my heart, but the very next day–"_

The radio is turned off in an unfriendly way with the help of violence. "Gosh, I hate Christmas!"

"No, you don't," Vaughn scoffs. "You love receiving gifts, and you take it as a challenge to find the perfect gift for everyone. You're only saying that because of what happened last year."

 _Here we go._.. "Speaking of which, it's been almost _a year_ , Rhys! Will you _finally_ tell me what went wrong on the Christmas Eve gala?"

"Vaughn, it's–"

" _No_. I'm your friend Rhys, and I just want to help you. So, spill it."

The taller man grunts, curling himself into an even tighter ball on the couch. "Fine," he groans when he is comfy. "I hooked up with someone on the gala."

" _That's_ _it?_ " Vaughn exclaims. "Was the hook-up that bad that you had to spent half a year mourning?"

"It was great, actually," Rhys admits reluctantly. "Had nice sex, very passionate, then fell asleep next to each other... And then I was woken up maybe an hour later, got my clothes thrown at me and me thrown out."

"Oh god..."

"Yeah," he sighs. "But that's not all. I meet him regularly at work."

"Oof."

"First few meetings were hell. I was scared, ashamed, but he never even acknowledged me outside of the meeting."

"Okay, you aren't giving me enough hints here. Who is it? It's a he–"

"Vaughn, you've known that I'm gay from the very beginning. Why are you acting surprised now?" Rhys frowns at his friend, subconsciously uncurling from the defensive position.

"I'm investigating," Vaughn answers, puffing his chest. "I'll figure this out. So, it's a he, and he is on a high position. You like him..." Rhys doesn't deny. "So, why haven't you approached him?"

A scoff. "Well, I don't really want to end my career in an airlock." His eyes immediately widen as he realises what he said.

"Dude... No way..." Vaughn catches up way too quick. "Are you telling me that–" His voice gets an abnormal high pitch. "Are you telling me that you fucked Handsome Jack?! Our boss's boss?!"

Rhys curls up again. "So what? I got kicked out."

"Well, I bet he can fuck anybody. Top models, celebrities..." The shorter man stops when he realises that this is not helping. "But that's good for you, right? Means you are definitely something."

"Actually," Rhys frowns, "he told me that he haven't had anyone in years. And he kicked me out nevertheless."

"Sucks, dude."

Rhys drops his defensive position just to glare at his friend.

"Ouch, don't give me that face," Vaughn fidgets. "So, I guess you just gained the right to hate Christmas. What now? Do I bring you ice-cream?"

Rhys chuckles genuinely. "You are the best, bro. All forgotten now."


	2. I Gave You My Heart

Rhys has the best friends.

"So, this is the War Plan..."

But they might soon be the death of him.

"I go pick up Rhys' new suit in the morning while Vaughn makes sure he eats breakfast. Then, we will all meet and practice Rhys' dance moves. You need to be perfect tomorrow night, and your three-step-waltz won't do."

Rhys scoffs, but he knows she is right. He needs to refresh his dance skill from college, bring out the fancy and sexy motions. He's gonna be irresistible tomorrow. Not even Handsome Jack will be able to take his stupid heterochromatic eyes off him.

"We'll have lunch, then watch a movie to pass time and chill out a little. Then there are two hours for Rhys to spend in the bathroom."

"Which is approximately twenty percent of what he actually needs," Vaughn adds. "But it will make do."

"He goes to the gala, makes sure he is seen. He spends the night chatting with anyone who is interested. If Jack tries something, he will keep it low, not even a friendly touch. And he will leave at midnight, like a princess, to drive the point."

Ywette is obviously very pleased with her plan. The war plan.

Rhys is not. "I still don't know how will I get his attention. And even if I do, I doubt I would be able to pull off a trick like this. I can't lead Handsome Jack on. I'm not a top model, I'm just Rhys."

"Bro," Vaughn pats his shoulder, "you know that I'm not gay. But when I saw you in that suit... Bro, even Handsome Jack will drool."

"Besides," Ywette joins him, "yes, you are _just Rhys_. But _Rhys_ is fine. Better than some celebrity, in my opinion."

"Guys..." He tries to hide the tremble in his voice. "I'm so lucky to have you two."

"Well, I'm hungry, and it's time for dinner, so I will generously let you show me that gratitude," Ywette teases him.

"I hate you," Rhys laughs.

* * *

The new suit was the best investment of his life. Black pants tailored to perfectly hug his ass and crotch, showing off the best of his legs and making it hard to decide on what to oogle first. Then there is the dark red dress shirt, top buttons undone to show the tiniest hint of his tattoos. The waistcoat, because Handsome Jack likes layers, and the jacket, which also hug his body in the perfect places. It doesn't make his shoulders look wide, no. They wanted him to be tempting for the man who controls the world, not dominating. So he kept his look of an innocent small boy.

He is a little early to the party, but there are people already there. He takes an offered glass of wine from a waiter and heads to the nearest lone person to chat.

As time tickles, the great hall begins to fill. Rhys feels the difference from last year clearly. He's already been offered so many drinks that he would be pass-out drunk if he accepted them. There is always a crowd of people around him, and the young man is rocking it. His chin is always held high, a confident smirk on his face as he blushes shamelessly under the constant flirting. Mixed signals indeed.

Surrounded by so many people, he doesn't even notice Jack arriving at first. He only catches a glimpse of the CEO later when he excuses himself to get more grapes from the tables.

He goes back to talking with random people, slowly eating the berries, plopping them into his mouth one by one, making sure his lips part around them and his cheeks hollow as he sucks the tip of his finger clean. It feels like the back of his head is burning, like someone was watching him very intently, but he resists the urge to look. Play it cool. Not like the dude who just excused himself from their group, running off to the bathroom, his erection more than obvious.

By 10 PM, most of the pretty men around here had already given up, only the drunk and/or persistent ones keep trying. Rhys spends more time by the tables with food, casually performing a show for anyone who is watching the way he eats. He's only had two glasses of wine, and his head is clean enough so he can focus and note the way some of the men practically fuck him with their eyes.

Handsome Jack finally breaks when Rhys eats the last grape and moves away from the table. He's been watching the young man since the beginning, it wasn't just a feeling. Their eyes never locked, Rhys didn't bother to lay his gaze on the CEO, but he knew.

"Heya, pumpkin," he strides over to him confidently, giving Rhys the look that would make anyone fall to their knees. "What is a pretty boy like you doing here all alone?"

"Oh, I'm not actually alone," Rhys chuckles. "There has been plenty of people keeping me company. The people around here are nice. I bet some of them even aren't planning to take advantage of me. Now if you excuse me," he turns away, seeking a target quickly. "Hey, Josh, there you are!" He leaves the dumbfounded CEO behind.

The second time he is approached is not much later. He is chatting with a group of his colleagues when Jack just walks into the small circle, giving everyone a stern look. He doesn't even have to say anything; they all run.

This is the second time Rhys is scared for his life today. The first one was turning his back to Handsome Jack. He gulps, but keeps his head high and maintains eye contact.

"Care for a dance?" Jack asks, offering a hand. "I saw you dancing before." Oh, yes, he did – Rhys made sure of that. "So I bet you will rock it." As if Rhys was about to excuse himself because he can't dance before he can show-off how good his ass looks while dancing...

He lets himself be led to the middle of the dance floor. Jack takes the lead immediately, pushing and pulling Rhys in the desired directions. The younger man relaxes into it, following Jack like they have been dance partners since forever. But when Jack tries to kiss him at the end of their third dance, pulling him close. He steps back, giving him a shy smile and thanks. Then, he leaves.

Jack finds him again fifteen minutes before midnight. He is frowning, and it makes Rhys scared again, but he doesn't go for his neck. He stops in a polite distance and again offers a hand. "Let me try again, princess?"

Rhys does. They dance once more, and he keeps checking the time through his ECHOeye. Just as the clock hits twelve, he untangles himself from Jack's body and runs off. He doesn't really slow down until he is home, startling Vaughn and Ywette.

The shorter man mouths a silent question. _Shuttle and run for our lives?_

Rhys just grins. It's enough of an answer.

* * *

(Twitter: [(@ElfWriting)](https://twitter.com/ElfWriting?s=09).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pssssh! Follow me: (@ElfWriting): https://twitter.com/ElfWriting?s=09


	3. The Very Next Day

"Bro, you are smiling like someone who got laid. Tell me you stuck to the plan..." Vaughn pries.

Rhys' grin widens. "Oh, I did. Ran off in the middle of a dance at midnight." He is hugging a pillow, trying to hide the wide smile behind it, but it's useless. "He smelled nice," he sighs.

"Bro, not this kind of details, please," Vaughn reminds him of their rule. "So, what was his reaction?"

"He looked a little annoyed at first, but then just confused. I guess he is not used to not having his way. And he really wanted me." He grins again. This ego boost is not gonna run out anytime soon.

"So," Ywette finally speaks, "this was a success. What do we want to do next?"

"Crush his hopes."

"I don't know. No! Vaughn, I don't want to... keep this up," Rhys frowns. "I wouldn't mind if..."

"You are a lost cause," the shorter man shakes his head. "So, if Rhys is still alive by the next week and the New Year gala, what will we do?"

They both look at Ywette, because she is the one with the plans. She smirks. "We will level up the game."

* * *

The pants feel even tighter this time, even though they are the same. He left the waistcoat and jacket at home. His shirt isn't red this time, but yellow, almost golden. His hair is less styled, a few strands escaping, making him look playful in Ywette's opinion. She said that Rhys looks like a treat, and they both blindly ignored Vaughn's jab that not many people survived when Jack bit them.

Rhys has even more attention on him this time, but he isn't as friendly and receptive as he was on the Christmas Eve gala. He brushes people off coldly but politely. Makes himself almost unapproachable.

When Handsome Jack makes appearance, Rhys notices immediately. He considers calling Vaughn to get them a shuttle and running away, because Rhys is not the only one who has levelled up their game, and it's getting hot in here, and this looks like the worst idea, dangerous.

Jack ditched his usual many-layers outfit in sake of something... more revealing. Starting with a short-sleeve shirt that shows-off his strong arms, hugs the muscles of his back and chest. Only the top button is left open, but Rhys knows, remembers what is hidden lower, and the non-existent hint makes his mouth water. And then his eyes travel down to Jack's slacks, ans he needs to turn way, because he can't afford to be staring.

In a second, Rhys feels himself be stared at, and he slowly walks towards the nearest waiter offering champagne, wiggling his ass a little on the way. But this time, Jack isn't intending to let himself be played with.

Rhys swallows a gasp as his wrist is caught before he can take hold of the glass. He slowly turns around, raising an eyebrow at Handsome Jack, who has already let go of his hand. "Excuse me, sir?"

Jack frowns a little before his _I'll-eat-you-alive-in-a-good-way_ _face_ returns. "It's still Jack, kiddo. Rhys," he corrects himself. "I was just trying to warn you. The stuff they serve here is cheap. You might want something better, not tasting like piss."

Rhys' brain is short-circuiting because of the proximity of Handsome Jack and the fact that he knows his name, so he can't really go through his opinions that fast. He quickly asks himself _what would Ywette do_. "Well, if you know about something better tasting, feel free to buy me a drink," he says in a hopefully seductive voice. But damn, if Jack makes dick joke now, he will get up and leave.

"It will be my pleasure," Jack smirks. But he is wrong if he thinks that he is beginning to rule the game.

They walk to the bar side by side, Rhys impressed that Jack doesn't even try to put his arm around him. Jack orders a drink with a funny name, and almost immediately, it is served by shaky hands, the barman desperate to please the CEO.

"Thank you," Rhys gives Jack one flirting smile and a wink. And then, he takes his drink, and leaves to go chat with Vaughn's superior from accounting.

* * *

Twitter: [(@ElfWriting)](https://twitter.com/ElfWriting?s=09)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Twitter for updates. :) https://twitter.com/ElfWriting?s=09 (@ElfWriting)


	4. You Gave It Away

Rhys is surprised he is still alive ten seconds later after leaving Handsome Jack again, though he is beginning to realise that the man really has a thing for him and is not gonna kill him anytime soon. But he doesn't try his chances. He leaves the great hall with his drink in hand and finds himself a nice empty balcony.

The air is colder outside of the hall, feels fresher, and Rhys takes deep breaths. What is he doing? He is leading Handsome Jack on. His friends are helping him. He's turned down just about all the pretty men on high positions on Helios in the last week. Just so he could hurt his boss a little.

He sighs, chewing the two straws in his drink without actually drinking. He didn't tell his friends the whole truth, because he is not sure about this, but he thinks that it wasn't a coincidence that he and Jack hooked up last year. The CEO has been giving him looks ever since the first meeting they had together. Rhys wasn't surprised when the powerful man sought him in the crowd last year, and he didn't resist his cheap pick-up lines, let himself be kissed under the big Christmas tree and then lead off. The true shock and hurt came when he was tossed out.

With another wry sigh he finally drinks. It's sweet and strong at the same time, and he wonders if Jack hoped that drunk Rhys will let him get closer. He scoffed, but drank it all anyway and went inside to order the same.

When Rhys' account had a huge hole in it and his mind was almost just as empty, a small smile on his face, he decided to stop hiding. The music is playing, the night is nice, he wants to dance! And so he left his balcony for a different reason than acquiring more alcohol.

He takes a look around, pleased that he doesn't see Jack, only a bunch of smudges and smears on his vision. He heads towards the dance floor, the feat unexpectedly hard as his legs keep carrying him in different directions each time ke takes a step. And then a pillar rises from the floor, blocking his way. A nice smelling pillar. Rhys goes to hug it, partly because of the nice scent of a cologne, and partly to seek support, because the sudden change in the world had made his head spin.

"Whoa there!" the pillar speaks as he takes hold of its shirt. "Easy, kitten. What— How much did you drink? Surely you aren't such a lightweight."

"So much that if you listen closely," he leans closer to the pillar, "you can hear my bank account crying." He laughs at his own joke, pleased with himself.

"Whatever, let's just get you to bed," the pillar says. Maybe he didn't understand what Rhys was saying, otherwise he would laugh. Pillars' hearing is probably very bad.

Rhys decides to talk louder to the pillar, to compensate for its disability. "There is no bed here; this is a dance party," he shouts right where its ears should be.

"Nice observation, pumpkin," the pillar notes. "Could you stop screaming, though?"

The world suddenly starts moving around them, floor moving from under Rhys' feet, or no, it's actually the pillar taking a step back and pulling Rhys with it. The brunette frowns. "Hey! Stop moving! Pillars can't move!"

"Pillars?" the pillar asks.

"Yes, pillars like you; you are a pillar. And you are moving. Stop it. You are breaking the law," he rambles until the pillar bursts out laughing. Can pillars laugh? Well, apparently they can.

"Whatever, princess, just let me get you home." The pillar starts moving the world around them again, shifting reality exactly so Rhys moves at an even speed. The lights go dim around them, they have probably stepped into vortex, and then they suddenly are in a brightly lit elevator.

"Whoa!" Rhys breaths out. "How did we get here? Is it magic?"

The pillar chuckles, and then Rhys' shoulders are being shaken. "Hey, you there? I need you to tell me where you live."

"With Vaughn," Rhys answers, smiling proudly.

"No shit. And where does Vaughn live?"

"With me, of course."

There is a long silence and a smacking sound, but Rhys doesn't feel anything hit him. Did the pillar hit itself?

"Pumpkin, on what floor do you and Vaughn live?"

"Same as Ywette," he says. "Thirty-eight."

"Finally!" the pillar hollers. At the same time, the world starts moving again, but not visibly. Rhys feels like he is flying, and he outstretches his arms to wave them, subsequently hitting the surprisingly soft and warm pillar in the pillar-equivalent of a stomach.

"Wow, you are so soft," he bends down to nuzzle the stomach. The pillar growls, but then chuckles, pushing him away gently. "Okay, dumb pillar," he frowns at it and turns away, smacking his face right into the glass wall of the elevator. "Ow!"

There is laughter behind him and a question whether he is alright, but he doesn't have time for talking to pillars, because he is busy swearing vengeance upon the elevator wall.

The world stops moving, and Rhys' stomach doesn't like it at all, but he can hold it in. Who is he, some alcoholic, to throw up by a lone pillar? Speaking of which, his arm is thrown around the pillar's shoulders, and they head out into the corridor.

"Hey, this is my apartment!" Rhys calls out cheerily. "I can't wait to tell Vaughn that I met a talking pillar! He will be asking about Handsome Jack, but I doubt it will even cross his mind when he learns about you."

The pillar laughs again, and so does Rhys, because there must be something about laughing, when the pillar seems to do it that often. And indeed, it makes him feel nice and warm. It also makes his stomach do flips. "O-oh," he says as a warning before he bends over, letting all of his stomach out. "Bye-bye, quaterly bonus money," he mumbles towards the half-digested alcohol on the floor. There is a warm hand rubbing his back, another keeping him upright by the shoulder, and someone is encouraging him to let it out, so he throws up some more.

"There you go," the pillar hands him a handkerchief, so he can clean his mouth. "Ehhh, keep it," it shies away when he tries to return it.

There is the sound of a doorbell, and then the door of his apartment is open. "Hey, Vaughn! I met a strange pillar!" he exclaims way too loud. His best bro isn't deaf, unlike the pillar.

"Hey, Vann," the pillar repeats, the mocking tone going straight over the drunk man's head.

"No, no," he shakes his head, reaching for the pillar to steady himself when it makes the world spin. "It's _Vaughn_. Try it. _Vaughn_."

"Vann, Vaughn, whatever."

"There you go! See, the pillar is learning!" he turns to his friend who is strangely quiet.

"Could you please take care of him for me? Thanks!"

He is suddenly pushed forward, and he stumbles, deciding to take advantage of the momentum and going straight into his room where he strips and collapses to the bed. He falls asleep.

* * *

Psssh! Follow my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ElfWriting) for regular updates on Rhys' sleeping patterns! Or my writing. Whatever you ask for, I have it!


	5. This Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The funny thing at the beginning? It's stolen, sorry. From Lost in the Legend by the awesome Nonymos.

Rhys groans. So, this is the Hungover Day. You can tell because there is a little hungover family building a little hungover house with hungover frosting in his head. They seem to be intending to settle for the rest of the weekend, maybe longer, judged by the pounding of their tiny hammers.

He turns on his side and gags without actually throwing up, because there isn't anything left in his stomach anyway. He hears the door to his room open, and soon a cold cloth is pressed to his forehead. He turns on his back so Vaughn can help him drink a few sips of water, just so he can turn right again and throw it up.

"Fuck," he groans again. Vaughn, being the best bro, turns the lights in the room on— _Wait, what?!_ "Noooo," Rhys whines. "'ights off!" But his friend just scoffs and leaves the room. Rhys in too bad shape to do anything about it, not even remembering that he has a fucking ECHO eye and can turn it off easily.

After a few minutes of Rhys going through the torture, Ywette comes into the room. Or rather, she flies on her angelic wings, because she is an angel – an angel who brings chicken soup.

"I love you," the man tells the angel as he sits up so he can eat.

She laughs. "Save this for Vaughn. He is really pissed."

"'Bout wha'?" he asks as he slowly eats, waiting for his stomach to finally accept the idea.

"What do you remember the last?" she asks. "Oh, and by the way, I'm pissed too. But I'm also very, _very_ curious. What the fuck happened on the gala?"

"I don't know," Rhys admits. "I might have had a few too many drinks."

"Did someone bet you to drink a vodka bucket or something?" she asks, clearly judging him already for whatever was the cause of his excessive drinking.

"No, I... I didn't have a good reason, I think." He frowns. There must be something escaping him. _Right_. "Jack was being sexy."

The woman snorts. "That's the reason?"

"No! He was being sexy and bought me a drink. And I walked away again. But then I felt bad, and I drank the drink. It was nice, like Jack –" apparently, there is still a lot of alcohol in his blood "– and I got another and another and... I don't remember when I left. How did I get here?"

"Oh, that's the funny part," Ywette promises, but she gets up and leaves. She turns in the door-frame to say: "I think Vaughn should tell you."

Rhys curses himself for whatever he did, trying to remember, but always coming back with nothing. He eats all of the soup and drinks the water on his bed nightstand, and then he goes to use the toilet, take a shower and clean the bucket that he must have used during the night too, given how bad it smells.

He meets Vaughn in the kitchen. Ywette is doing something on her comm, but Rhys is sure she is ready to listen to any ensuing drama.

"Vaughn, bro, I'm sorry," he begins.

" _Sorry?!_ " Vaughn snaps immediately. "Sorry?! You damn well _should_ be, Rhys! This was– I hate you for this, you know?"

Rhys is taken aback with the harsh words for a while, and then he is sure that nothing that he could do would make him deserve this. He looked around the apartment previously, and didn't notice anything missing, broken, or covered in bile. "Mind to refresh my memory here?" he asks, a little annoyed.

"You want me to refresh your memory?"

"That's what I said," he reminds, crossing his arms over his chest.

"So, we are waiting here for you, as was planned. It's one in the morning, you are still nowhere to be seen, you don't answer out calls. And then, suddenly, the doorbell is ringing. I think _hooray, he is here, probably too drunk to use the keys_... Well, you _were_ too drunk to use the keys, that's for sure. But you didn't have to..." There is a little pause for drama, and Rhys knows that he already doesn't like whatever is coming. "Because frickin' _Handsome Jack_ pressed rang the doorbell for you!"

Rhys blinks, not about to believe this. "What?"

"You came here supported by our frickin' boss's boss's boss, you both smelling like alcohol, and I'm just thinking _damn, he is coming for us, he knows we all planned this, he is going to kill us!_ But no! Jack was apparently just here to make sure you get home alright. I had a heart attack for nothing!"

Something about the shorter man's anger makes the whole situation more believable, although Rhys is not convinced yet. He turns to Ywette. "For real?" he asks.

She turns to him with an amused smile. "Yep, _very_ real. There is the handkerchief, after all. Vaughn, show him the handkerchief."

Vaughn looks still angry, but he is probably happy he can do something and not blow up more. He disappears in his room, bringing back a simple white handkerchief, still damp from the washer. "I cleaned it along with your shirt," he explains. "But you pay the dry-cleaning anyway, because I couldn't get it off the shirt and pants no matter what."

Rhys takes the offered cloth in hand, and pales. There are the initials **HJ** sewn in gold, probably very real gold thread. It looks way too expensive to be a joke, and a handkerchief with one's initials in gold looks absolutely _Jack_ anyway.

"Oh, shit," Rhys swears.

"Yeah, shit," Vaughn agrees.

"I'm so sorry bro! I'm so glad you didn't die of an heart attack!" Rhys goes to hug his friend spontaneously, probably the alcohol still in him speaking. "But that doesn't explain why did Handsome Jack, of all people, bring me home? How did he even know that I need help? How did he know where to go?"

"Well, we were hoping you will answer these questions for us," Ywette points out. "Otherwise, we will have to wait for your meeting in two hours. If you come back alive, that is."

Meeting...? Meeting! Shit!

"Shit!" Rhys runs off to his room, rummaging through the papers on his desk. He has an hour to prepare, and though he had prepared all the materials the day before, it's never a bad thing to go through them again before the meeting. He also needs to iron the handkerchief, so he can give it back to Jack, and think up an excuse for his behaviour, maybe a way to gently ask him what the fuck happened, apologise, get a shuttle and escape Helios if needed...

The headache from morning comes back, and Rhys lets his head smash the table. This meeting is gonna be a shitstorm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: a meeting. This is gonna be a challenge. :D


	6. To Save Me From Tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who posted before editing, panicked and deleted the thing? *points at self* I'm so stupid, sorry!

After swallowing a lot of pills to help with the headache and nausea, and eating more of the chicken soup, Rhys dresses in something he normally wears for the meetings where Handsome Jack is present. And then he ditches it in sake of dressing in his second most fancy clothes, because he is going to need all the bonus points today, and this outfit does the job perfectly. It's not a regular suit. Black shirt with a lot of buttons left open, a waistcoat, jacket and tight pants... He looks like a freaking super-sexy super-villain.

The plain messenger bag in his hand ruins the image a little, but who cares. His peeking tattoo will probably take most of the attention anyway. And so, confident, and for the absolutely-not-last time apologising to Vaughn, he heads to the meeting.

The way is almost thirty minutes. Rhys was supposed to move higher in Helios after his promotion, but he didn't want to leave Vaughn. He likes to arrive early and set everything up. He is usually in charge of those meetings these days, as he is the Head of Security, and if there is a meeting with him, it's probably about Security, and he is the head of it, so—

Rhys freezes in his movements, sensing the change in the air. There are only two other people with him in the room now, and they aren't talking, but he feels it anyway.

Handsome Jack is never this early for meetings. Except for the days after parties. Then, he loves to come early and tease anyone who has hungover.

Rhys would like for all of it to be over. He can give him the handkerchief, make the meeting go fast, and dig a hole and disappear in it. But Jack doesn't pay him attention, much like last year, and he goes to tease the two innocent employees about how much they drank the previous night.

The room fills quickly, mostly with men and woman who clearly left the bed not long ago. Rhys doesn't start the meeting until Jack finishes playing his cymbals (yes, he incidentally had them in his pockets and decided to start the meeting with a little song). The Head of Security seems to be the only one doped on enough pain killers to not let his suffering show.

Rhys didn't get his position by chance, and so he has no trouble doing what he is here for, even though he so desperately wishes to be in a bed in a nice, quiet dark room. He is often interrupted by Jack, mostly by him slapping the table or whistling, but none of the CEO's jabs and jokes are targeted against him. Actually, he receives a praise a few times. "Take Rhysie here, for example – drank probably more than all of you combined, yet here he is, standing straight, not whining, looking like the shining sun as always."

He doesn't let the nice words get to him, reminding himself that it's not meant in a good way, only as a jab at his colleagues and subordinates. Still, he lets a few small smiles slip, and puffs his chest. It's very rare for the CEO to appreciate someone, after all.

He is so glad when Greg, his colleague, recites the final numbers and they all can call it a quit. People leave the room quickly, as always when there is Handsome Jack, and Rhys is about to follow suit, placing the last report in front of the boss and collecting the rest of the papers. He can send the handkerchief through a messenger or something. He just wants to get the fuck out _now_.

"Rhys, can we have a word?" Jack stops him just as he turns to the door.

He straightens, feeling the older man's gaze on him, even though he is turned away. "About what, _sir_?" he asks.

Jack sighs, not saying anything. It's still weird – Handsome Jack sighing – and so Rhys turns around to look at him. He tries to keep his face neutral, but something must slip, because Jack turns defensive. "Well, I hope you aren't angry with me taking you home after you stumbled into me drunk out of your head!"

"No," Rhys answers carefully, "I'm not angry with you for taking me home when I was drunk. I actually really appreciate it; thank you." His voice is everything but warm, though.

"So what's the problem?!" Jack snaps, but he cools down quickly. "Could you stop giving me that look?"

"What's the problem?" Rhys asks, feeling his eyes begin to sting with tears. "Maybe flirting with me for months, then taking me to your home, making me ignore all the regulations about relationships on workplace, making me put in stake my dignity, anything my hard work means by being seen with you," he keeps walking closer, his voice straining, but not screaming yet, "and you saying all those things you said that night, and then kicking me out like a _whore_ , and ignoring me ever since! This, _sir_ , is the problem!" He takes a wild, stuttering breath, realising that he has been looming over the sitting CEO, spitting his spite right to his face (and still not being strangled).

He steps back, running his hands over his clothes to straighten it. His hand comes across a small bump – the handkerchief, carefully folded in his pocket. "Here," he tosses it in Jack's direction.

"I don't want it back," the man snorts, tossing it back. It falls to the table, not caught by Rhys.

"It's been cleaned, don't worry. No traces left," he slides it back to him.

"I don't want no traces left," Jack says, much quieter.

This time, Rhys pauses.


	7. Give It To Someone Special

Jack gets up.

Did Rhys finally break him? Does he run for his life now? How many lines did he step over, getting away with it? He is so dead right now, right? But those words...

"You don't?" His voice is weak, pathetic and small. He wants to curl in his bed, hug two pillows, somehow eat chocolate ice-cream without breaking the hug. He wants to cry, and he wants to scream, and he wants to kill Jack for playing with him, but he doesn't do anything, frozen in place by the sudden rush of hope. "So, what do you want?"

Jack sighs, coming even closer, trapping Rhys between him and the table. Somehow, it's not even scaring the younger man anymore. It just makes him sad. There have been situations like this over a year ago, an look where it got him. He should have listened to his instincts that it's too good to be true, that it's just a game, that Jack can't possibly—

"I want you, Rhys," the CEO says, hand reaching up to his face, not actually touching, just ghosting over his cheek. He isn't looking him in the eyes when he says it, and Rhys almost wants to laugh.

"Sure you do," he snorts. "To warm your bed one more time, ri-ight?" His voice breaks pathetically at that, and he wipes a tear from his cheek he didn't know was there. When he gets nothing in return but silence, he snorts one more time, and then escapes the tight space between Jack and the table, leaving his bag behind, leaving Jack behind, leaving all of it behind and fully intending to just run away, maybe even through an airlock, if there isn't a shuttle waiting for him.

"Rhys, wait!" Jack calls after him, running out of the meeting room. "Please! I beg you! Give me a chance!"

His words are in such a disagreement with his actions that it makes Rhys' head hurt. What is the man playing at?! "Chance to do what exactly?!" he turns around, trying to give him a stern look, but he probably just looks broken. "Stop playing with me, you ass–"

"Rhys, please, just– Just let me talk, okay? Please..."

Rhys crosses his arm on his chest when the CEO approaches. "Speak."

"I—" Silence. Long silence, filled with staring at each other.

"Well, what a nice chat. Now, if you excuse me, sir," Rhys is about to turn again.

"Do you want to go for a date?" Jack blurts out. "You pick any place in the world; I'll take you there. But don't– Don't think that I'm buying you, because I know that this is not what you want. Do you want to go for a walk to the freaky park above R&D? That's for free. There are hot-dogs, I heard, we can have them. Or, I can kill someone for you! I read a creepy fan theory on the echonet that I would do this to make a good impression to whoever I'm trying to date. Or, I don't know, _anything._ Just give me another chance. I'm– I'm sorry I was acting so stupid.

"It was a little suspicious, right? You were too perfect. I was worried that you might betray me as soon as I open up, and I did open up when I finally had you in my home, and I panicked. I was– I was scared. Handsome Jack was scared, because of _you_ , Rhys. I kept hoping that you will, I don't know, quit, or come to scream at me the next day, or to beg an explanation. All of it might have solved it. Or not, I don't know. But you just took it. You let me hurt you, because I'm an asshole, and you are too good. I'm sorry."

Any time it looks like Rhys is about to walk away or speak, Jack's speech gains speed, like he desperately needed to get all of the words out before he is stopped, even though it looks like a pitiful improvisation without a beginning or an end. When he is finally quiet, and Rhys makes no move, no sound, he dares to ask again: "Do you want to go for a date? Give me a chance?"

Rhys closes his eyes. He wishes to disappear. How can he make such a choice? He liked what he and Jack had before. He wished for a conversation like this to happen. But when it is finally there... He can't. He doesn't want to be hurt again.

He opens his eyes, intending to say just that to Jack, but when he sees him... God, it's like falling in love again. Because he doesn't see Handsome Jack, the CEO of Hyperion, but his colleague, boss, maybe friend, who he would share a few lunches with, who he would talk to after meetings, who would call him silly pet names and show him the gentlest smile that ever appeared on Handsome Jack's face.

"Yes," he breaths out. "Yes. One last chance."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be one more chapter! Stay tuned – I'm on a writing spree. :D


	8. Merry Christmas!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't ask me how the kids got there. Knowing my works, there is equal chance that they came out of Rhys, were stolen from their real families by Jack, or were adopted. They could have just spawned in their house, for all I care. Just enjoy it. Christmas fluff! :)
> 
> Also, ****CONTENT WARNING!!!**** Adult stuff later. If you are not interested in reading adult stuff, you stop reading when Rhys gets the gift after kids are asleep. ;-)

"Daaaaaad! Where are you? Come oooooon!"

"Keep screaming like that, Oliver, and I swear I'm calling Santa to take all the gifts back!" Rhys frowns at the oldest kid. He is right, though. The breakfast is ready, and the kids want it to be over sooner rather than later. He walks over to the bedroom, giving a warning glare to all three sons beforehand, and peeks inside. "Jack?"

"Just a minute!" comes a call from the dresser.

"What are you doing there?" Rhys asks, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he walks in.

His gaze falls on something so absurd and irrational that he can't help but burst out laughing and fall to the floor doing so. "Oh my God! You look– You look horrible!" he laughs.

Jack growls. "Stop laughing! Olie gave this sweater to me last year, and he will be happy that I'm wearing it. I had to dig it from the back– Would you fucking stop laughing?! It's just a reindeer with a blinking red nose! No reason to– Okay, I'm gonna give you a reason to laugh!"

Rhys senses the change of air and the incoming danger, and he hops to his feet and runs out of the bedroom. Jack follows closely, clad in that awful sweater and his pyjama pants, bare feet almost slipping on the wood floor. "Catch him!" he calls to the kids, who remain sitting in place, laughing as the two make chase around the kitchen isle.

Eventually, Jack catches Rhys, who has trouble catching his breath over the laughter, by his waist and they both fall to the ground. Jack goes immediately to stradle his hips, immobilising him for his punishment.

"No, please, I'm sorry!" Rhys begs as he feels the fingers on his sides, not yet tickling. "Guys, whoever gets dad off me gets cookies for breakfast!"

His tries are in vain, and Jack begins his assault mercilessly, making the younger man squirm and beg for forgiveness over choking laughter.

The attack, fortunately, stops as their youngest, Cyrus, jumps at Jack from behind, little arms wrapping around his neck, trying to free daddy. Jack pretends to be fighting futilely, carefully leaning back until the kid is forced to release him and escape being crushed. "You are trying to take my prey from me? Who are you to face me, little warrior?" he launches at the kid, tickling him too.

Oliver, being the big brother, rushes to save Cyrus, and jumps around Jack's neck much the same way, although making sure he is not actually pressing on the neck, just the chest. Soon, even Milo, who usually doesn't like the heated play-fights, his sharp blue eyes only observing from afar, joins them, going to pull Jack's arm away and trying to immobilise it. Cyrus takes hold of the other arm, and Jack gives up and falls to the floor, completely at mercy of the kids.

Rhys gets up, snaps a few photos of the kids trying to tickle Jack, who is not ticklish at all (trust me, he tried), and then clears his throat. "Does this mean that you don't care about the breakfast or the gifts anymore?"

Immediately, all the kids are in their seats. Chuckling, Rhys helps groaning Jack get up and sit too.

"Hey, that's the sweater– the sweater Santa brought you last year!" Oliver points out with a wide happy grin, his green eyes lighting up.

"Well, if Santa thinks I should wear something, then I wear it, right?" Jack winks at the kid.

Rhys helps Milo and Cyrus get waffles and pancakes on their plates, cutting the food up for the youngest, while Jack pours tea into colorful cups. The older man is on his best behaviour, which is strange and a little upsetting, but Rhys writes it off to the Christmas mood.

When all the food is eaten, and the kids' eyes keep wandering towards the huge, extravagant tree, Rhys finally releases them. None of them reach the tree first, because Milo stays behind making sure Cyrus gets safely down from the chair, and Oliver waits for them. They walk there together, and while Jack snorts at the sentiment, Rhys can't help but smile.

"Don't be such a Grinch, Jack!" he slaps his husband on the arm. "They are way better people than any of us two ever was. Makes me wonder if they are really ours, or if they got switched or something."

Jack frowns. "I'm Grinch for laughing, and you can have thoughts like this?" He gently pinches the brunette's side, making him squirm and squeak. "They got this from you. You are a good person, dumdum."

"And what do they get from you?" Rhys raises an eyebrow, unbelieving that Jack didn't take the opportunity to make a _I'm a hero_ speech.

"Well, Oliver blew up something in the lab again, and he called it the fart-granade, so this. Also, Milo tried to hack into my computer about a billion times already, each time getting closer. And Cyrus looks innocent enough with the big brown eyes of him, but I know that he is up to something." He squints in the kid's direction.

"He isn't even three yet! How can he be up to something?" Rhys laughs.

"You'd be surprised. You _will_ be surprised. But I'll be expecting it, and I'll be laughing while putting off the fire."

"Daddy! There is one for you!" Oliver calls out, getting their attention.

"And how do you know it's for him?" Jack teases.

Olie rolls his eyes, and both parents ignore it for the sake of Christmas. "Because the wrappings are blue and bronze, like his blue and brown eyes."

It was Jack's idea – colorful wrappings instead of writing the names – and he loves to hear how smart it was. "Hmm, sounds like Santa is very smart. He must have spent a lot of time thinking about it." He doesn't mind stroking his own ego, too.

"Or," Rhys smirks, "it was the elves. Santa's little helpers are the ones who pack the gifts, am I right?"

Milo, the innocent soul he is, agrees immediately. "You are right, daddy! It's the elves."

Jack frowns. "You win this round," he murmurs towards the younger man. But it wouldn't be him to go quietly, and so Rhys lets out another undignified sound as he is suddenly scooped up by the older man to be carried to the tree where Jack carefully places him on the fluffy carpet.

Oliver pushes his gift to him. "Open it, daddy," he encourages excitedly. "I bet it's gonna be something awesome! Santa always brings you cool stuff!"

Rhys gives Jack a side glance, silently asking if it is safe to open in front of the kids. When he gets a nod and a grin, he makes quick work with the wrappings, revealing a nice pinkish box. When he opens it, there is a suit.

"Ahh, boring," Oliver sighs, and Cyrus mimics it. "Oops, sorry," he fidgets when he receives frowns from both parents. "Look, Cy, there is one bronze for you!"

When all the gifts are opened, mostly toys for the kids, and clothes and accessories for the adults, lunch is eaten and then there are visits. After the kids show all their new toys to their favourite uncles Vaughn and Timothy, and to auntie Yvette, more sweet food is eaten, and the kids begin to tire out quickly.

Cyrus falls asleep first. Loader Bot toy still in hand, he bends forward in the sitting position and begins to snore softly. Rhys carries him to bed, smiling widely.

When he comes back, Milo has fallen asleep on Jack's lap, head resting on his shoulder. Jack and Rhys exchange a knowing look, and this time it's the older man carrying the kid to his room. Oliver admits in time that he is tired, hugs everyone goodnight and leaves on his own two wobbly, tired legs.

When the kids are all fast asleep, everything is cleaned up (by Rhys, because not even on his best behaviour does Jack clean up his mess), the two man snuggle close under the tree and kiss slowly. This is their favourite time of the year, and they never go to sleep early on these days.

"I love you," Jack whispers so softly Rhys might think he dreamed it up. He knows that Jack still has problems saying it out loud, and he makes sure that he is looking him in the eyes when he tells him that he loves him too.

They sit for a while, and then Jack's smile starts to give way to something more... evil.

"Oh no," Rhys groans. "No more cuffs, please." Jack likes to give him special gifts when the kids are asleep.

"No cuffs," he chuckles. "Don't make conclusions, pumpkin. What do you think of me?"

"Do you really want to know?" Rhys laughs. Jack produces another gift for him seemingly out of nowhere. He is suspicious as he tears the paper, and even more when he recognises the brand. Opening the package, he closes his eyes, face burning when he realises that it's not a joke. "Is it a— Jack, did you seriously give me a vibrator for Christmas?" he tries to roll his eyes, but more than annoyed or amused he is... admittedly excited.

"Hey, I gave you a lot of other things too! You only ever bring out the bad things," Jack pretends to be offended. "I can return it, if you don't like it," he teases.

"No," Rhys says slowly, planning his next move. "I think we should test it out first before returning it. How else will we able to tell that it's not for us?"

Jack can't but laugh at the attempt. "Baby, you were so good at this years ago, why are you so terrible at flirting now?"

Rhys pouts, but he sighs contently when he is scooped up again and carried to their bedroom. Jack helps him undress, they both take a long warm shower, and then the door to the bedroom is locked, and Rhys is muffling moans as Jack prepares him ways longer than needed.

Jack is very passionate these days, and even more talkative. He doesn't ever shut up about how awesome Rhys is, how good he is, how Jack is happy to have him, and that he is never gonna let him go. He keeps saying the sweetest things even as he thrusts into him in a harsh pace, holding him almost tight enough to leave bruises, but he always makes sure on these days that Rhys is not hurting at all.

Rhys gets three orgasms forced out of him before he is allowed to rest, still panting, covered in sweat, curled up in Jack's arms. Not that he minds any of it, really.

Even after this, they don't fall asleep, hugging each other and staring into the darkness in silence.

"Thank you," Jack speaks suddenly.

"For wha'?" Rhys yawns, the day, mood, and the rest of afterglow getting to him.

"For giving me a chance."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, I hope that the holiday mood is over for me, because honestly, I can't be this soft for a long time. Also, I need to study for my finals, damn it!
> 
> Merry Christmas, you all! And I wish all of the Grinches like me out there to find a nice hiding place. :)


End file.
